Paris manages to drag out a creative side in me.
The creative burst that topples out once a year when I am here is unexplainable but it feels good!
The Stolen Bag Saga didn’t only steal away from me my belongings but it also has robbed me of creativity, confidence, precious time in Paris and who I am.
When so much time, money and thought goes into my adventures in Paris and now without bag and especially camera, my plans and my routines are all out of kilter. I am out of kilter and have developed a certain type of unwanted weariness.
Walking without a bag is lighter and carefree, to some extent but having a pencil case as a wallet and my coat’s pockets filled with vital needs, was starting to wear me thin over the past couple of days.
The same as any loss, it takes time to settle in and understand the impact. What follows after is sadness, grief and anger.
When finally the anger reared it’s ugly head today, I wasn’t prepared but at least I understood when it did arrive.
Chicky Babe was there to dress the wounds. She offered to allow me to replace my stolen camera sooner than the credit card people could.
We hit the shops of Les Halles and voila – I now have a new camera and lens… again!
The area of Les Halles was once the busy market area of Paris, dating back to 1183 but in the 1970,s the city decided to move the market outside of Paris, despite a public outcry the giant underground shopping centre and train station took it’s place. For the past year or so the area has been under major construction to give it a face lift and continues today.
The interior of the nearby gothic church; Saint Eustache depicts sculptures of fruit, fish and market stall holders, which reflects it’s previous parishioners.
Personally I find the area interesting but slightly seedy. There is a combination of beauty and ugliness, especially now the area is under major construction. Of course after the market disappeared the surrounding cafes and businesses that once thrived from market stall holders and customers either went broke or had to change with the times. Now is it a clunky melting pot of tourist shops, ancient cafes and shopping on a grand scale.
Cafe Charlot was our reward after navigating the large centre of Les Halles and it didn’t disappoint.
Located over the road from the famous Marché des Enfants Rouges. The small market place in the Marais, named after the orphans, who once lived on the grounds and wore red, hence the name; market of the red children.
Cafe Charlot‘s white tiled walls, timbered floors, pressed metal ceiling, bustling but relaxed atmosphere, charming waiters, wonderful ambience and good food and wine, made our very late lunch all the more special.
Obsessed with tearing open the camera box and setting up the camera while we waited for our meals to arrive, I am certain I was a complete bore.
Chicky Babe sat quietly, perhaps witnessing my anxious hands shake as I set up the camera. It was all I could focus on, like a child with a new toy.
Placing the strap around my hand, pointing, focusing and shooting, giving me the sense of déjà vu, I wonder if she understood how much joy she had given me by handing over her credit card to enable me to do this.
She didn’t only supply me with a new camera but restored my trust and confidence and gave me back my freedom and creativity.